As Easy as Pie
by Ryeloza
Summary: The men of Wisteria Lane make a bet.
1. The Bet

**Disclaimer: **_Desperate Housewives_ so isn't mine. I'm just playing.

**Story Summary: **The men of Wisteria Lane make a bet. A pre-series fic that takes place around the time Carlos and Gaby moved in.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part One: The Bet**

**Chapter One: The Bet  
**

"Can I ask you guys a personal question?"

Rex looked down at the cards in his hand and steadfastly ignored Paul's nervously dancing eyes while Carlos and Karl exchanged amused looks of disbelief. Of course, it was Tom who remained completely oblivious to how uncomfortable the other three felt and he said casually, "Sure. What's up?"

"Well…I was just wondering…" Paul took a deep breath. Somehow the words seemed to be inflicting a sharp pain in his stomach, but he felt like it was necessary to force them out. He didn't often hang out with other guys. This poker game, in fact, was Mary Alice mandated—a degrading play date she'd set up in an effort to get him some friends that was disguised as a way to welcome their new neighbor to the street. As far as Paul could tell, Carlos didn't want to be there any more than he did. But Paul thought it seemed prudent to take advantage of the other men's expertise while he had the chance.

"Since you got married, what's the longest you've gone without sex?"

Karl gave a sharp bark of laughter and tossed his cards down on the table while everyone else exchanged concerned glances. "You mean sex with your wife?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. Paul shuddered, but tried to hide it; he was pretty sure his visceral dislike of Karl had been obvious since the first time they'd met, but Mary Alice had made it clear that he had better cover it.

"Yeah."

Rex sighed and rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose. "Aren't we supposed to be playing poker?"

"Gentlemen, please," said Karl, the obnoxious sound of laughter still in his voice. "Paulina has a problem. Clearly little Mary's being quite contrary."

Carlos snorted and both Rex and Tom smiled while Paul struggled not to let the color rise on the back of his neck. He really should have known better than to bring this up in front of Karl. The man made everything a joke; a lewd innuendo. Embarrassed, Paul grumbled, "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

To Paul's further consternation, Tom threw him a slightly pitying glance; the gesture only made Paul feel more inadequate. "We all go through dry spells, right guys?" He smiled encouragingly when no one else agreed. "I mean, after Lynette had the twins it was six full weeks before we got back to business as usual."

Just as Paul felt like maybe he wasn't such a failure, Rex said, "You can't count that. Not when it's doctor's orders."

"Fine. Then I guess…a week?"

Karl nodded in agreement. "About the same. Susie can't go longer than a few days without a ride on this stallion." As Karl neighed—actually, honest-to-God whinnied—Rex just shook his head. Taking this as a sign that Rex's sex life might be more on par with his own, Paul said, "Rex?"

The doctor sighed. "About a month. Don't tell her I said so, but Bree's like a sex camel. She can store up a session for weeks without batting an eye."

Carlos gave a low whistle. "That's rough, man."

"Yeah?" Rex folded his arms over his chest defensively. "Well give it a few years, newlywed."

"Have you seen my wife?"

"Yeah," said Karl. "Have you seen his wife?"

Even Paul couldn't help but to smile at that comment, but he didn't really feel amused. He and Mary Alice were going on two months cold. Ever since she'd started therapy, Paul had been the one suffering and he didn't know how much more he could take.

"So what's it been, Paul?" asked Karl. "One year? Two? Or are you about to confess that you're a virgin?"

Paul scowled and then promptly lied. "Three weeks. But we've never gone that long before. I was just wondering if that was…normal."

"I could never hold out for three weeks," said Carlos. "Just take some initiative. Throw her down on the bed. Show her what you need."

Tom gave Carlos a slightly wary look, obviously not sure how to take the comment. Vaguely, Paul wondered if he'd ever been in charge in the bedroom; with a wife like Lynette, he doubted it. "I'd make a gesture," Tom suggested, unaware of Paul's thoughts. "Do something romantic. Oh! Give her a massage."

"Pfsh," Karl tisked. "In my experience, if one woman won't give it to you then another one certainly will. If you want I could take you someplace…I know this great little joint down on fifth—"

"I'm not going to cheat on my wife," said Paul firmly. "Just because you'd screw anything in a skirt before going through a dry spell doesn't mean the rest of us would."

"Hey, I never said I was cheating," said Karl defensively. Rex and Tom exchanged a look that said they believed otherwise, and Karl only became more riled up. "It's just…I've got a reputation to uphold. The truth is that I could go ten times longer than you without having sex."

"Yeah right," said Paul.

"What? You doubt me?"

Paul shrugged, enjoying the feeling of getting under Karl's skin for once. He wasn't sure if it was a guilty conscious or a competitive spirit that was prompting Karl's response, but Paul wasn't going to question the motive. This was just too much fun. "I'd bet a hundred dollars that I could go longer than you," he said.

Karl scoffed and looked around the table, as if to say, _Do you believe this guy_? No one else met his eyes, and after a moment, Karl glared at Paul. "Fine," he said. "It's a bet. Whichever one of us—" Karl gestured to the whole table, "—goes the longest wins. That'll be five hundred bucks."

"Whoa!" said Tom as Carlos outright laughed. "I never agreed to this!"

"Come on, Scavo. It's a friendly competition. Think you can't give us a run for our money?"

"Well, no…I mean, yes…I mean…I don't want to give up sex."

Rex smirked. "I'm in."

"Of course he's in," said Karl, rolling his eyes. "He's married to the sex camel. What about you, newlywed?"

Calmly, Carlos pulled out his wallet and counted out five one hundred dollar bills without batting an eye. "Gaby and I have our whole lives to have sex. I can go a couple of weeks."

"Tom?"

Despite still looking like a caged animal, Tom slowly nodded. "Fine. If everyone else is in, then I am too. But Lynette can't find out about this."

"Oh God no," agreed Karl. "No telling the wives, obviously."

The rest mumbled emphatic agreement as Paul leaned forward, directing his attention at Karl, but his question at the group: "How are we going to know?"

"Know?"

"Yeah," said Paul. "Karl could go home right now and do it and then lie to our faces. How are we going to know?"

"Hey, it's the honor system or nothing," said Rex. "Because you're not going to start videotaping my bedroom."

"We'll know," said Carlos. "The misery will be all over our faces. Just look at Paul."

The other men laughed while Paul just shook his head. Let them get their jokes in now. They didn't know he already had two months under his belt.

Winning this bet would be as easy as pie.


	2. Day One

**Disclaimer: **If this was mine I never would have killed Karl off. He's way too much fun to write.

**A/n: **Thanks for the reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I really just wanted to write something fun and this is certainly fitting the bill for me; I hope it is for you too!

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: The Bet**

**Chapter Two: Day One  
**

Paul finished setting the poker chips in the lined case that he'd gotten Mary Alice for her birthday. She'd been so excited when she unwrapped it; eager to take it to her next poker game and show it off to the other girls. That night they'd had some rather perfunctory sex that Paul hadn't been thrilled about at the time, but that now he'd take in a heartbeat if Mary Alice just said the word. Even if it meant that he'd lose the bet.

Of course, she wouldn't and he was definitely going to win, but he could always dream.

He heard the door open and abandoned his cleaning to go help Mary Alice with the groceries, greeting her with a chaste kiss and a smile that she happily returned. "Well?" she asked while he took some of the bags from her arms. "How was it?"

"It was fine."

"My man of few words. Seriously, Paul, how did it go?"

Paul repressed a sigh. He knew that Mary Alice worried about him. She worried about everything and everybody—it was part of the reason she was in therapy. Last month she'd nearly hyperventilated after Zach got into a fight during gym class. Anxiety attacks, the therapist called them. He had her on some kind of medicine now, but Paul wasn't sure if it was really helping.

"We had a great time," he said. He set the groceries on the kitchen table and briefly kissed her forehead. "I ended up breaking even."

"Well, that's better than losing." Mary Alice gave him a wary look—like she so much wanted to believe him but just couldn't quite get there.

"Maybe we'll do it again sometime," he added, pleased to see that it sparked a genuine look of pleasure in Mary Alice's eyes.

"That's great! You'll see, Paul. Just hanging out with other people will help a lot."

Paul nodded just for the sake of appeasing her. Honestly, he had no idea how Mary Alice thought it was going to help, but he did know one thing: it wouldn't be improving his sex life.

* * *

Carlos entered his house with a spring in his step, whistling a little as he came into the living room. Gaby, who sat on the couch painting her toenails, gave him a questioning look. "What's with you?" she asked as he sat down in a chair and picked up a magazine. "Don't tell me you had fun?"

"It was okay," he said truthfully, not able to tell her that he was only happy because he'd soon be four hundred bucks richer. His wife was only just beginning to garner friendships with the women on the street and now that he'd spent time with their husbands he could see why Gaby had gotten off to a rough start. "Karl's a pretty funny guy."

"Mary Alice is convinced he's cheating on Susan. She heard from Ida Greenberg who heard from Karen McCluskey who heard from Martha Huber who heard from Lisa Henderson that Karl was making out with Edie Britt at the Hendersons' Christmas party a couple weeks ago."

"Yeah," said Carlos slowly. "I didn't follow any of that, but okay."

Gaby rolled her eyes. "What's Tom Scavo like? He's the only one I haven't met. Mary Alice said he's sweet, but clueless."

"It sounds like Mary Alice has a big mouth." Carlos turned a page in the magazine; he wasn't really reading it, but he didn't really want to continue to engage in idle gossip about the neighbors either.

"Yeah? So? Spill."

"Gaby!"

Screwing the cap back on her nail polish, Gaby just shrugged. "Fine. I'll just find out myself. Lynette invited us over to dinner on Thursday."

Carlos groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Yes,' said Gaby as she stood and started to awkwardly walk toward the kitchen. "And don't try to get out of it by working late or I'll make sure that the most action you see for the next month is from your hand."

"You promise?" Carlos called out, a grin playing on his face.

* * *

The Van de Kamps' kitchen was spotless as usual, but when Rex walked in Bree was nowhere in sight. That in it of itself wasn't too concerning; what made Rex pause was that there wasn't one sign that she'd made dinner, let alone kept something warm for him. Nothing short of a scheduled meal out of the home kept Bree from making dinner. Nothing.

"Bree?" he called, wandering into the living room and then, when he didn't find her, heading upstairs. "Are you home?"

From Andrew's room he heard the sound of car tires screeching—the cacophony of some idiotic video game—and he walked in uninvited. His son was sitting on his bed with his eyes glued to the game; it was the most interest Rex had seen him take in anything in months. "Andrew," he said, eyes flickering from the game to his son. "Where's your mother?"

"Yeah, hang on a second, Dad."

"Andrew."

Andrew continued to ignore him, his fingers flying over the buttons a mile a minute, and Rex rolled his eyes. Annoyed, he picked up the television remote from the nightstand and turned off the TV.

"Dad! What the hell?"

Rex lightly smacked Andrew's shoulder. "Watch your mouth."

With a glare, Andrew lay back on the bed and crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

"Where's your mom?" he asked, purposely ignoring Andrew's sullen tone. Bree wouldn't have been happy to know that he was tolerating the disrespect, but she wasn't here and he didn't feel like fighting.

"She took Danielle to her hair stylist."

"What? Why?"

Andrew smirked. "Dopey dyed her hair and Mom wigged out. She dragged Danielle out to try to get her an emergency appointment."

Rex sighed. In his mind, he could already hear Danielle's petulant whining, Bree's inevitable rant, and the argument that would result between him and his wife when he didn't show the proper amount of horror. The entire thing would be exhausting and trying to his patience and in the end he'd still have to wait at least a couple hours before dinner. The worst part was that this was par for the course lately: Bree resenting him for not caring enough and him resenting her for getting too worked up. He just couldn't stand living like every little problem was a crisis and Bree, more and more, seemed to be convinced that everything was. The antipathy was slowly infecting every part of their marriage—including their sex life—and Rex honestly wasn't sure how to fix it or if he even could.

Or, if he was completely truthful, if he even wanted to.

* * *

Tom was fairly certain he was in trouble; first and foremost because he had no willpower. This morning, Lynette had woken him up early, mumbled, "We have a half hour tops before the boys wake up," and he'd been on top of her in a matter of seconds. It was almost pathetic. No matter how starved he was for sex—which at least wasn't as much as Rex or Paul, thank God—the second Lynette gave him the go ahead he whipped it out faster than he could think the word "sex." But between the kids and work and all the traveling he had to do, he took whatever he could get. Not to mention that Lynette always knew when he was lying; even when he had a believable story. And short of his dick actually falling off, there was no way in hell that she would ever believe that he didn't want to have sex.

He was so screwed.

He really wanted to ask the other guys how they planned to get away with this for an indefinite length of time, but he could already hear the jokes about how whipped he was echoing through his mind. Normally it didn't bother him; Lynette's ability to make decisions and get things done was one of the advantages to being married to her. But some part of him—as juvenile and immature as it might have been—couldn't stand the idea that people might think he couldn't take charge in the bedroom.

Maybe he should just concentrate on figuring out how to explain away a missing hundred dollars from their bank account instead.

With that troubling though, Tom opened the front door and walked into the house. As usual, his presence went unnoticed for approximately five seconds.

"Thank God you're home," called Lynette from the kitchen, not bothering to look up as he approached. "I was just about to call."

Tom frowned at the sight of her on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. "What's going on?"

"The twins are sick. Some kind of flu. Preston threw up all over the kitchen floor."

"Where are they now?"

"In bed. Parker's in the other room playing. Can you get out his sleeping bag and make it up on our bedroom floor?"

Tom furrowed his brow. "What? Why?"

"Because I don't want him in the same room as the twins. If we can prevent him getting sick too then all the better."

"What's wrong with the guest bedroom?" Tom asked, stupidly regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. What better deterrent from sex was there than a three-year-old in their bed?—and make no mistake, even if Parker started out on the floor, he'd end up in their bed eventually. "Never mind," he mumbled, startled by his brilliant realization. Lynette didn't even bat an eye.

* * *

"Hey Susie Q," said Karl. His wife was bent over the oven peering inside at whatever horrible concoction she was attempting to make for dinner. The sight of her tight ass made Karl sigh in resignation of what he'd be missing out on for the next couple of weeks, and he took a moment to fully admire her assets before taking the plunge.

"Jeez, Susan," he said, making sure to ham it up. "Those pants make your ass look huge."

Susan stood up and turned around to glare at him. Fortunately all she had in her hand was an oven mitt, so it didn't hurt when she chucked it at him. "You're a real jerk sometimes, Karl!" she snapped before storming out of the room.

Karl just smiled. That was at least three days without sex and he'd barely lifted a finger.

Those other guys didn't stand a chance.


	3. Day Five

**Disclaimer: **Oh it's still not mine. You know that.

**A/n: **A very, very big thank you to those of you who took the time to review. It means so much to me to hear what you think.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part One: The Bet**

**Chapter Three: Day Five**

At six forty-five, Tom arrived home feeling pretty damn proud of himself. In the past two days, Lynette had told him approximately thirty times to be home by six so he'd have a chance to get freshened up and help her finish getting ready for dinner. Tonight they were having the Solises over, but as excited as Lynette claimed to be, stress and frustration were about the only feelings Tom sensed from her. There had been threats made and Tom was certain that showing up forty-five minutes late would keep him in the doghouse, so to speak, for a few days. It was the perfect solution to keep him in the running for the money since Parker was back in his own bed. Even if he couldn't win, there was no way he was going out first.

At six forty-six, after receiving three big, enthusiastic hugs from his boys and asking where their mother was, Tom went from feeling arrogant to horrifically guilty in the time it took Preston to sagely say, "Mommy's sick. She's in the bathroom throwing up."

This was why he wasn't devious. It always blew up in his face.

"Go upstairs and get your pajamas on," Tom ordered. Taking a night without a bath as the prize it was worth, Porter and Preston made a run for the stairs before he could change his mind, nearly wrestling in their eagerness to get upstairs. Parker scurried behind them. Once they were all out of sight, Tom headed toward the bathroom where he found Lynette clinging to the toilet like a lifeline.

"Oh, honey," he said, walking up behind her and laying a hand against her forehead; he could tell just by touching her that she had a fever and he sighed. When Lynette was down and out their entire lives careened off course no matter how hard he tried to fill the void. The truth was that they were a unit; they worked best together.

Lynette knelt back from the toilet, leaning her head against Tom's leg as she said, "I feel terrible."

"I can tell. You done puking yet?"

"Don't say that word." She paused for a second and let out a shaky breath. "I'm done."

Tom hooked his hands under her armpits and gently hoisted her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Slowly they made their way through the kitchen, upstairs and down the hall to their bedroom. Lynette promptly collapsed on the bed, her face wan just from the short walk. "How are you doing?" he asked as he sat down next to her. "You gonna be sick?"

"No."

"Okay. I'm going to draw you a bath. You'll feel better."

Lynette moaned and he took it as a thank you. With a quick couple of pats on her thigh, he stood and went into the bathroom to start the water. Just as the water level reached the proper height, he heard the doorbell ring and it suddenly dawned on him that they had dinner guests tonight.

"Are they early?" asked Lynette as he came back into the bedroom. She'd sat up in bed and already stripped completely naked. Despite the fact that she looked like death warmed over, and even though they had people waiting at the front door, Tom openly ogled her for well over a minute. He was abruptly reminded that he hadn't had sex in five days, a fact that seemed much more horrible now than it did five minutes ago.

The doorbell rang again.

"I'll get rid of them," he said in lieu of reaching out to grasp her breast. It was a hard choice to make, but he was sure it was the right one.

Well, pretty sure at least.

* * *

Gaby rang the doorbell again and Carlos fidgeted like a boy in church. He'd gone into work this morning at six because of an emergency and when he'd arrived home after a twelve hour day he'd been less than thrilled to be reminded of this dinner tonight. All he really wanted to do was to crawl into bed with a bucket of fried chicken and watch television until he passed out. Gaby hadn't been on board with the plan.

"Stop squirming," she barked, slapping his chest. "God, Carlos, you act like I'm trying to make you eat _my_ cooking."

"At least I could eat your cooking in bed. Why do we have to do this?"

Gaby glared at him. "Why do you have to whine? I told you how annoying that is. If I wanted to deal with a baby, I'd get knocked up."

"I'm not whining," he argued, well aware that he was.

"You've been whining all week. And you've been working all those weird hours. Is something going on that you're not telling me about?"

In the time it took Carlos to consider pushing Gaby down on the Scavos' front porch and fucking her until she couldn't see straight, Tom finally answered the damn door. Disappointed and more annoyed than ever, Carlos just scowled as Gaby put on her fifty watt smile.

"Hey," said Tom, reluctantly taking the bottle of wine they'd brought out of Gaby's hands. "I have some bad news. Lynette is sick. I think she caught the flu from the kids."

"Oh no," said Gaby. Her face sagged in actual disappointment. "It's just horrible how germy little kids are, isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah," said Tom. "Anyway, we're going to have to reschedule. I'm so sorry."

"Oh it's okay. We understand. Don't we, Carlos?"

"Sure." He understood. Here Tom was with a guarantee that he wouldn't get laid and he hadn't even had to work at it. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the easy competition. More annoyed than ever, Carlos reached out and snatched the wine bottle back, purposely ignoring Gaby's confused gaze. Unfortunately, Tom seemed to pick up on what was going on and he smirked.

"You okay, Carlos? You look a little…frustrated."

"He's fine." Gaby not-so-subtly elbowed his side. "Well we'll get going. It was nice to meet you. Tell Lynette we hope she feels better soon."

"Thanks. I will." Tom gave Carlos a parting grin and shut the door. Gaby sighed.

"Well we might as well get you your damn chicken because I'm sure as hell not cooking."

Carlos perked up. "Really? And I can eat it in bed?"

"You can eat it in the bathtub for all I care. As long as you shut up for awhile."

"Oh, babe, I love you."

* * *

Karl was pacing the living room like a caged animal, an expression that was especially apt because it was exactly how he felt. He was like a randy gorilla that some twisted zookeeper had locked away from the females. Any minute he was going to bust through the bars of his cage and go to town on the first chick with a nice rack that he found. All day long he was stuck in that office looking at Brandy whose skirts he swore got shorter every passing day. And then the nights at home with Susan…God, even her snoring seemed sexy lately.

"What is wrong with you?"

Speak of the devil. Karl didn't pause in his pacing, but he still managed to take a good look at his wife. Her low cut top was like a beacon of light begging him to just go to town on her boobs. Why the hell was he torturing himself? So what if he was out a hundred bucks? Right now he'd pay that kind of money to have sex.

"I'm horny," he said frankly. Predictably, Susan made a face.

"So what? You want me to just drop my pants right here? Do I have to remind you that your daughter is in the kitchen?"

Karl crossed the room and put his hands on her hips. "Of course not. Let's go upstairs. We'll make it quick. Oh! Oral only." He grinned. It was a technicality, but he was pretty sure he could swing it since they hadn't actually outlawed it. And the look on the other guys' faces when they found out he got sucked off while they waited it out…

"Get off of me," snapped Susan, batting his hands away and stepping back. "I don't know what's wrong with you!"

"I thought we covered that," said Karl stupidly. Susan scowled.

"Do you remember a little thing called romance? You used to lay out rose petals on our bed and light candles. You used to make reservations at five star hotels. Now I wake up in the morning to find you humping my leg."

"Aw, come on, Susie. Don't be like that."

Susan backed further away from him, shaking the dishtowel in her hand as an admonition to stay away. "Don't do that, Karl."

"Do what?"

"Talk to me like I'm crazy. I'm not crazy."

Karl laughed. "You're a little crazy."

To his surprise, she didn't take the teasing with the flattering ease that she usually did. It was a strange moment; he'd never not been able to cajole a laugh from her before and he found that he missed the sound. He must have been off his game or something.

"I'm going to go out for awhile," he said. "Work off some steam."

Susan rolled her eyes and let out a blustery, "Whatever." Without even asking him where he was going, she turned and left the room. Karl was oddly disappointed, but it didn't stop him from grabbing his car keys and heading out the door.

* * *

Rex was staring at his wife.

Bree sat primly in a chair perfectly done up—perfect hair, perfect make-up, perfect khaki pants—embroidering something with her perfectly eloquent hands. It really was a marvel how she was always put together; an ability that deserved to be studied even though Rex was positive that no one could emulate it.

He hated it.

When they were first married, he and Bree had lived in a modest apartment while he was finishing his residency. That apartment seemed like a distant dream now. He remembered that he used to come home from work and Bree would have dinner ready just like she did now, but she'd rush to meet him at the door with a big smile on her face. Her hair would be in big, loose, wavy curls down her back; her t-shirt smudged with paint stains from working on the apartment all day. And it was lovely.

But then they'd had the kids and moved into a house and they had neighbors who actually dropped by during the day who, heaven forbid, should ever see Bree in a t-shirt and jeans and gradually she changed. Day by day, year by year, the happy woman he'd married had slowly morphed into this strange, perfect creature. And he was pretty sure that the transformation was irreversible.

Bree glanced at him for a moment, a smile playing on her lips. She was flattered by the attention; he could tell. She didn't know what he was thinking.

"You're staring," she said teasingly.

Rex tried to relax and forget the past. It was harder than it should have been. "What are you making?"

"The Carltons just had a new baby. I had the gift done, but I just had to add the name." She held up the mat for him to see. Her work really was admirable: a vision of fluffy teddy bears and the most delicate little pink flowers. "Angelica," said Bree, going back to her work. "A little overdone for my taste, but what can you expect from people who have a poodle."

Rex, who wasn't sure what one had to do with the other, just shrugged. His indifference went unnoticed, though, as the phone rang and Bree got up to answer it. "If it's my mother," he called after her, "tell her I'm not here!"

Bree was only gone for five minutes, but she came back looking slightly ruffled. It was remarkable how just the wrinkle in her brow told him so much about her mood. "Who was that?"

"Tom Scavo. Lynette's sick. He wanted to know if I could watch the boys for a couple hours tomorrow morning while he went into work for a meeting."

"What did you say?"

"I told him yes. It's fine. I'll just run my errands tomorrow after the luncheon."

Rex frowned. "Tomorrow is my day off."

Pointedly avoiding his gaze, she said, "Yes, I know."

"Bree, I don't want those kids here tearing up the house. I don't want to deal with it."

"Then why don't you go to the club. You can get in a round of golf in the morning."

"I don't feel like it."

Bree shook her head slightly and made that disapproving _tsk_ sound with her tongue. Immediately, Rex felt his blood pressure rise. "You never think about me," he said angrily. "I never come first with you."

To Rex's further consternation, the comment didn't seem to rankle Bree in the slightest. She just calmly raised her eyes to look at him and said coolly, "I think you have that backwards, dear."

* * *

When the doorbell rang that night, Paul honestly considered just ignoring it. He and Mary Alice were sitting in the darkened living room watching television. Zach was upstairs in his room. Whoever it was would go away if they just ignored him. Unfortunately, Mary Alice didn't share his wishes and she promptly answered the door, even going so far as to flick on the lights on her way.

"Karl?" he heard her say, confusion lacing her tone. Paul shrank into his seat, trying to remain undetectable. "Uh, hi. What brings you by tonight?"

"Is Paul here?"

"Of course. Come on in."

To Paul's utter horror, Mary Alice led Karl into the living room and stood with a huge grin on her face as Paul sheepishly sat up. "I'm going to make some tea," she announced. "Do you want any tea?"

"No thanks," said Karl. There was a laughing quality to the words that Paul knew meant that he was amused by the whole situation. Paul felt vaguely embarrassed, but recovered as best he could once Mary Alice left the room.

"What do you want, Karl?"

"Eh, I was just going a little stir crazy at home. Had to get out of the house. I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to hang out."

"Hang out? With you?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe we could go out somewhere. Get a drink."

Paul scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, well, Karl, I'd love to, but—"

"Paul?" Mary Alice called from the kitchen. "Can you come here a second?"

Reluctantly, Paul stood and excused himself for Karl to go see his wife. He had the uneasy feeling that she'd been eavesdropping and if his suspicions were correct, he knew this wasn't leading anywhere good.

"What are you doing?" she asked as soon as the kitchen door swung shut. "You should go out with him! Get out of the house for awhile."

"I don't want to."

"Paul, it's good for you to get out. You need some down time."

He sighed. He wanted to tell her that his down time was hanging out at her at home. He wanted to tell her that a night watching television with her was ten times better than going out with anyone, especially Karl. He wanted to ask her why she was so eager to get him out of her hair. But Paul didn't say any of this because he strongly suspected she didn't feel the same way. To hear it confirmed out loud would just devastate him, so instead he just nodded and left with Karl.

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting at the bar of a place that Paul was pretty certain doubled as a strip club later in the night. Karl was settled on a bar stool that was probably his second home, but Paul felt uncomfortable and instantly vowed that he was having one drink and then grabbing a taxi home. He ordered a beer; Karl a scotch and then they sat in awkward silence.

"So," said Karl slowly.

"So."

"You obviously haven't gotten laid yet."

Paul rolled his eyes. "And you?"

"Oh well, it's been hard to keep Susan off of me, but I'm doing okay so far. I told her she was fat the other day. That bought me a couple nights on the couch."

Paul picked up his beer and chugged half of it down, determined to get out of here as soon as he possibly could. "I can't believe," he said as he slammed his bottle down on the bar, "that Mary Alice would rather I be out with you than at home with her. You're a pig. And she knows it."

"Aw, you mean Little Miss Muffet doesn't like me?" Karl gave a fake sniffle. "I'm hurt."

"That's another thing," said Paul, on a role with the honesty; he no longer cared if Karl knew he didn't like him. "Why all the nursery rhyme nicknames?"

Karl shrugged. "Because all those nursery rhyme characters have Mary as a first name."

"Little Miss Muffet doesn't."

"Huh, really? I always thought of her as a Mary." He took a drink and frowned. "You wanna know the truth? Susan and I got in a fight tonight. Or I should say another fight. Lately nothing I do or say is right. I mean, she used to find me charming. Now it's like I'm a bug she has to scrape off the windshield."

No one could have paid Paul enough money to deal with the drama of a woman like Susan, and he'd often wondered how Karl dealt with it. He'd actually suspected that all of the affairs that Karl was supposedly having was because he couldn't take his high strung wife. Now he wondered if it was the opposite; if Susan wasn't giving him the overdone attention he was used to.

Feeling an actual tug of sympathy for Karl, who was acting like a human with emotions for the first time since Paul had met him, he said, "I lied at the poker game last week. Mary Alice and I haven't had sex in two months."

Karl spit out the drink he'd just taken and started to laugh, making Paul instantly regret his confession. This was the problem with showing an ounce of compassion. It always blew up in his face. Annoyingly, Karl patted him on the back a few times.

"Wow, Paul. You really know how to cheer a guy up. Thanks."

He really hated Karl.


	4. Day Eight

**Disclaimer: **This still doesn't belong to me. Oh well.

**A/n: **Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I'm glad you're enjoying this.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part One: The Bet**

**Chapter Four: Day Eight**

"So, how's everyone doing?"

Tom's question was met with groans from everyone around the table and unfortunately he could only nod in agreement. It was strange how tortuous this bet had become. He'd certainly gone longer than this without sex in his life before, but somehow knowing that he was denying himself made it so much worse.

"Yeah," he said, voicing his agreement. "I know exactly how you feel."

Carlos gave a huffy snort. "You have it easy. Talk to me when the universe isn't conspiring to let you win. I've been up early and at the office late all week just to avoid seeing Gaby in her underwear. It's always small and lacy and I miss it."

"You could always give in," said Rex slyly. He was shuffling the cards with such a casual ease that it was hard for Tom to believe that any of this was truly affecting him. Unlike Karl, whose leg was bouncing under the table so rapidly that it seemed likely to fly right off at any second.

"Should we even be talking about this now?" asked Paul. His voice dropped. "I mean, Lynette is right upstairs. She seems like she has good ears."

For a fleeting moment, Tom thought about the breathless moan Lynette always made when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth then physically shook his head to block out his imagination. "She's sleeping. This flu really wiped her out."

"Flu. Flu," Carlos muttered like a mad man. "Next thing you know, you'll have it."

"I'm leaving for Tulsa on Tuesday. I better not get anything."

"I should take a business trip. Why don't I take business trips?"

Karl groaned. "Be a man! We're all in the same boat here so why don't you shut the hell up?"

"A man would be having sex with his wife!"

A silence fell over the group as everyone awkwardly looked at Paul. Fortunately, the _faux pas_ finally seemed to snap Carlos from his rage and, rather lamely, he leaned back in his chair trying to look casual. In an attempt to ease the tension, Rex started to deal out the cards and they focused solely on the game. It was a blessed and welcome distraction in more ways than one.

* * *

The game didn't go on very long after Carlos put his foot in his mouth. Paul had only lasted two hands before escaping and soon after that Tom's kids had come in whining that they wanted dinner. Apparently that was more than Rex could take because he was out the door with barely a goodbye muttered over his shoulder, leaving Carlos and Karl to wander out of the house together. The company wasn't welcome; Carlos was in a bad mood and no one but Gaby could possibly improve it.

"You're thinking of dropping out," said Karl out of the blue. Carlos' eyes narrowed and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, not wanting to discuss it. Karl ignored this. "You know, the better plan would be to team up with me."

"Team up?"

"We'll take out the competition. Blow them away and then it'll just be down to you and me. A lot easier to take on one guy than four."

"Take down Tom," Carlos muttered. The thought brought a smile to his face. It was one thing to lose to guys like Paul and Rex whose lives seemed generally sexless, but obviously desperate Tom was another story. Especially given the circumstances. Interested in spite of himself, Carlos actually paused and looked at Karl. "We could wash the floor with him."

Karl shook his head. "You're looking at this all wrong," he said conspiratorially. "Tom is gonna shoot himself in the foot, trust me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I've lived next door to him for years now. He's got a sweet little system set up. Away for days at a time, then he comes home for a few days and she's all over him." Karl's eyes glazed over and he looked wistfully down the street. "It's like a dream life. Can you imagine the kind of crap you could get away with?"

"You mean he's screwing around?"

"Oh no way. The poor bastard is too in love with his wife to bone around on her. But a man with fewer scruples would be in heaven."

Carlos wondered if Karl included himself in that category. It was hard to tell if he was as much of a sleaze as he acted or if it was just a performance, but Carlos didn't particularly want to know the truth. "So what's your plan?" he asked.

"We get rid of the big dogs. Take out Paul and Rex and this thing will be a cake walk."

"Okay," agreed Carlos, not exactly on board, but acknowledging that Karl had a point. "Well how do we do that?"

"I have no idea, man. We're dealing with a woman who hasn't touched her husband in weeks and a professed sex camel. Getting those two laid will be like obtaining the holy grail."

With a renewed surge of annoyance, Carlos rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. I should be getting myself laid."

Karl clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave a long-suffering sigh. He looked very much like a man counseling his protégé. "Think of it this way," he said persuasively. "You're paying a hundred bucks to get laid when you should be getting the milk for free. It's unethical for guys like you and me."

"Unethical?"

"Unethical…Unfair…Whatever. Just give me a few days. I'll come up with something."

"Yeah, and how am I supposed to keep Gaby at bay until then?"

"Well, there is something going around the neighborhood," said Karl, grinning ear-to-ear. "Pretend you're sick." There was a pause while Carlos considered how well he could feign an illness and Karl's face fell. "This is the part where you admit that I'm an evil genius," he added sullenly.

"Sure. You're the man, Karl." Carlos slapped his back. "Let me know when you come up with a plan."


	5. A Plan

**Disclaimer: **Ya'll know it's still not mine.

**A/n: **Thank you so much for reviewing! A couple of you are right on track with where this is going, so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Please let me know what you think!

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: Revenge**

**Chapter One: A Plan**

Susan stretched up onto her tiptoes to look in the top of the kitchen cupboard. She honestly wasn't even sure if she had a blender or where it would be if she did, but Julie and her friends wanted to make milkshakes and she'd promised to track one down. As her hand grazed the top shelf of her cupboard and came up empty, she sighed. Bree would have one; she'd have to borrow it.

Stepping back, Susan grabbed her sweater from the back of one of the chairs and pulled it on. Come to think of it, they didn't have any ice cream either. She'd have to stop at the market too. Just as she picked up her purse to dig out her car keys, Susan heard Karl come in the front door. She thought there was a good chance that she could coerce him to go to the store for her, but as she opened her mouth to call for him, she suddenly heard his voice loud and clear. He was on the phone. Despite herself, Susan couldn't help but listen in.

"I know it's hard keeping it in your pants," Karl said as charming as usual, "but we just have to hold out a little longer. I'm sure the other guys are breaking down." Susan frowned at the words and in her distracted state she backed into the counter. The sharp edge drove into her hip and she let out a howl of pain. "I gotta go," she heard Karl say quickly and before she knew it he wandered into the room. He took one look at her holding her hip and rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, Susie, learn to walk."

With a scowl that Karl didn't even seem to notice, Susan said, "Who were you on the phone with?"

"When?"

"A minute ago."

"Oh." Karl shrugged. "Just Carlos. We're all getting together at his place to watch the game on Sunday."

"Oh really?" Susan gave him her best suspicious gaze, but Karl just raised an eyebrow and took a couple steps toward her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned into her personal space and said, "Yeah. Really. So find a different mystery to solve, Nancy Drew."

Susan ran her fingers through her hair, actually tugging at it in frustration. She was pretty sure it made her look crazy, but Karl was so aggravating that a physical response felt necessary. "You…You…"

Karl tweaked her nose. "Chill out, Susie Q. You'll get wrinkles. Or maybe I should say more wrinkles."

All Susan could manage was a shrill groan as Karl walked away laughing.

* * *

"Have you noticed anything weird about the guys lately?"

"You mean weirder than usual?" smirked Lynette. Gaby grinned.

Mary Alice reached out and put a hand over Susan's comfortingly. "Is this going to be like the time you told us that you caught Karl hiding your panties?"

"No." She paused, considering the evidence. "Well, maybe. I overheard Karl on the phone yesterday and he was having this bizarre conversation…It sounded like…"

Gaby leaned forward, obviously intrigued. "Yeah," she prompted. "Spit it out."

Susan squirmed. "It sounded like he's not having sex with me. On purpose. And the way he was talking…It was almost like a conspiracy. Like there are other people in on it."

"What?" asked Lynette, amusement still in her voice. "Like a bet?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

Mary Alice, who didn't seem to find the idea nearly as funny as Lynette, asked, "What makes you think that our husbands are involved?"

"He told me he was talking to Carlos. And they've all been palling around lately."

"Carlos has been acting weird," admitted Gaby. "Yesterday I caught him jacking off in the shower and he didn't even ask me to give him a hand."

"Gaby!" Bree's eyebrows arched almost into her hairline; she was clearly scandalized.

"Oh come on. We've all been there."

"That doesn't mean we have to discuss it."

Gaby looked like she wanted to argue, but Lynette cut in before she and Bree could get into a war of words. "Tom was a little cagey before he left," she said thoughtfully. "But that's not exactly proof."

"Hey, if Susan says that Karl mentioned it then I believe her," said Gaby. "I mean, have any of you actually had sex in the past two weeks? I sure haven't."

The girls exchanged furtive, hesitant looks that said it all and Susan suddenly felt a surge of relief. As annoyed as she still was by this entire escapade—which, she feared, was probably all Karl's idea—it felt good to know that she wasn't in this boat alone. It wasn't her imagination; she wasn't crazy. And Karl was definitely going to suffer for this one.

"I'm going to give him a reason to not have sex with me," she growled, verbalizing her thoughts. Bree nodded in agreement, but Gaby shook her head.

"You're thinking too literally. If we want revenge, we have to hit them where it hurts," she said. Susan furrowed her brow, confused, and Gaby sighed. "They're trying not to have sex with us, right? So all we have to do is make their lives a living hell."

Mary Alice frowned. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet. Susan suddenly got the impression that this bothered her even more than the rest of them. "How?"

"Easy. We do what we do best. Make them want it so bad that it hurts. If they're really keeping it in their pants then it'll be torture."

Lynette laughed. "She's good."

"Do you really think that will work?" asked Bree skeptically.

"Oh, trust me. They won't know what hit them."


	6. Tests and Teasing

**Disclaimer: **Not even a little bit is mine.

**A/n: **Thank you all for reviewing!

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: Revenge**

**Chapter Two: Tests and Teasing**

"What do you mean you're not coming home?"

"I mean I'm not coming home," said Karl. Susan pulled the phone away from her ear and glared at it for a second. When she stopped personifying the object to be her husband and actually listened again, Karl was just yammering. "…legal things. All night. Big case."

"Are you a caveman?" she shouted. "Speak in complete sentences."

Karl laughed—actually laughed. "I'm working late. I got a huge client today and I have a lot of documents to go through before I meet with his wife's lawyer tomorrow."

This wasn't entirely unusual. Karl had pulled late nights or even all-nighters at the office before, but today Susan was mad and frustrated enough to believe that he was doing it purposely. As if he knew what she had planned.

"You are…just…you…"

"Settle down, cavewoman. I know it's one less night with me in your bed, but you'll survive somehow."

"That's not the point!"

She could practically hear Karl's shrug of indifference. "My money makes your world go 'round, Susie Q. So deal with it." The phone clicked in her ear; the jerk had actually hung up on her. Apoplectic, Susan threw the phone at the rose petal-covered bed and let out a shriek. This was completely unfair. All of her friends were going to get their husbands to give in and have sex tonight and her idiot husband was going to win this bet by default. And then he'd go back to being the horny bastard he always was and she wouldn't even have the chance for revenge.

Susan groaned and flopped down on the bed. Nothing ever went her way.

* * *

Lynette shaved her legs.

It was one of those foolproof tests designed to see if Tom would pass—in which case she would probably be naked in the blink of an eye—or fail. Honestly, the latter didn't exactly seem like an option; she didn't think there was any way he could resist her, whether or not the bet actually existed.

Since the kids were born, shaving her legs with any kind of regularity had gone the way of putting on makeup and doing her hair. They were treats deserved for a rare night out or a special occasion or an intimate night in. Nowadays, shaving her legs might as well have been an explicit invitation for sex and it was a signal that Tom was well aware of.

Lynette gave herself one last look in the bathroom mirror. She'd played up the natural curl in her hair and put on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, going for sexy, but not over-the-top and she'd definitely succeeded. With a cunning smile, she flicked off the light and walked into the bedroom.

Tom lay in bed, one hand slung lazily over his head and his eyes glued to the television. Deliberately, she walked in front of it and grabbed a book she wasn't even reading before crossing the path again on her way over to the vacant side of the bed. When she finally glanced at Tom, she wasn't all surprised to find his eyes tracking her every step. Although otherwise he hadn't moved, it was obvious that he was suddenly much tenser.

Quickly clicking on the lamp on the nightstand, Lynette climbed into bed and subtly inched closer to Tom so they were pressed together: arm to arm; hip to hip; leg to leg. Without a word, she opened her book and started to read. It was some romance novel that Susan had lent to her over a month ago. Lynette had borrowed it on a whim, perhaps distracted by the shirtless man on the cover, but she'd never gotten around to reading it. Of course, she didn't really plan to start now.

At an agonizingly slow pace, Lynette began to run her leg along Tom's, making sure to drag her calf up and down his shin. Casually, she dropped her left hand onto his upper thigh and rubbed her fingers in small circles. Tom let out a shuddery breath and she fought a satisfied smile. He was putty in her hands.

"Did I kiss you when you got home?" she asked, still not lifting her eyes from the book.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Hmm. Was it a good kiss? You were gone for three days. That deserves a good kiss."

Without giving Tom time to respond, Lynette firmly grasped his chin and turned his head toward her. He looked a little nervous—almost shifty—but definitely turned on. Closing her eyes, Lynette leaned up and captured his top lip between hers, taking her time as she kissed him. When she finally pulled back and smiled up at him, she was pleased to see that his eyes were still closed and his lips still parted. Any second now he was going to push her down on the mattress and tear her clothes off; she could feel it.

"Welcome home," she said softly.

Tom brushed her hair behind her ear and quickly pecked her on the cheek. "I really love you," he said, and he kissed her again, almost chastely. "You want me to drop the twins at preschool on my way to work tomorrow?"

Lynette pulled back, honestly shocked. "What?"

"It's Friday. They have preschool, right? I'll drop them off." Tom patted her knee and then slumped down in the bed and hit the power button on the TV remote.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked incredulously.

"It was a long flight. I'm tired and I have to work tomorrow." He shut his eyes, completely blocking her out. "Goodnight."

For a second, Lynette thought about hitting him with her book and telling him that she knew everything—this scenario was too ridiculous to be anything other than a desperate need to win some stupid wager. Fortunately, Gaby's encouraging words of revenge came back to her and she forced herself to calm down. This was just a warm-up. She'd get even. There was no doubt about that.

* * *

Mary Alice sat up in bed knitting. Her husband was slouched down beside her reading the newspaper. It could have been a scene from a hundred other nights of their marriage except that instead of wearing her comfiest pajamas, she'd actually put on a little white nightgown. Of course Paul being Paul, he hadn't even noticed.

The sad part was that she knew that this wasn't because of a bet. It was just the way things were now.

She and Paul hadn't had sex in over two months.

It was something she hadn't told her friends. Between Gaby and Susan and Lynette constantly half-joking, half-complaining about their husbands' sex drives and Bree's utter discomfort about discussing sex, knowing that her husband no longer desired her wasn't something that was easy for Mary Alice to admit. She'd given Paul every signal, every green light that any other guy would have taken advantage of and what did she get? Nothing. She just couldn't understand it.

Lately she'd thought that it was because Paul felt claustrophobic at home. He worked from home as often as he did at the office so they were together more than a lot of couples. She'd been trying her best to encourage him to get some space from her and have some down time. And this was the result: a bet that he purposely wouldn't have sex with her. A bet that he was sure to win because she was pretty positive that nothing she did would have the slightest affect on Paul's sex drive.

The thought was equal parts embarrassing and depressing.

"Did you read this?" asked Paul, jolting her from her reverie. "This fluff piece about the little boy who saved those kittens?"

"Oh. Yes."

"That's adorable. Look at those fluffy little guys." Paul held up the paper so she could see the small black and white photo of a boy with three kittens. Mary Alice was fairly certain that this was the least sexy moment of her life. "Maybe we should get a cat."

"A cat?"

"Sure. Zach will be going to college in a few years. It'll be nice company to have around the house." Paul shrugged. "Just a thought."

Mary Alice nodded, all the while fighting the urge to cry.

* * *

There was a time where Rex couldn't keep his hands off of her. Bree could remember it clearly. It was back when they were newlyweds—days she remembered as full of joy and laughter and nothing worse than one poorly made pot-roast. What was strange, though, was that she couldn't recall one thing that she did differently then that had made her irresistible to her husband.

She stood examining herself in the mirror. She was a little older, but she didn't think she'd changed too much in physical appearance beyond being more polished now. That could only be seen as an improvement. Her lingerie was still sexy but tasteful. And she certainly still enjoyed sex.

So what was the problem?

Bree shook her head. This was ridiculous. Just because she and Rex weren't having sex constantly like a couple of randy teenagers did not mean that their sex life wasn't healthy. Not every man was as pathetically insatiable as Karl Mayer, after all. She and Rex were mature. That was all.

Firmly convinced that nothing was wrong, Bree confidently strode out of the bathroom. Rex was already lying in bed, turned on his side away from her, so she cleared her throat loudly. Slowly, her husband rolled over to look at her.

"Rex," she said, "do you want to have sex tonight?"

Rex's eyes widened slightly in surprise and he gave a little shrug. "You know I'd love to, honey, but I've got a long day tomorrow…" He trailed off as though that was enough of an explanation. Bree struggled to keep her smile plastered on.

"Oh. Of course. Some other time then." The words were absurd as they came out of her mouth; like she was scheduling a lunch date and had to take a rain check. As Rex gave her a tight smile and rolled away from her again, Bree actually let herself droop in disappointment. Maybe Susan and Gaby were right. Maybe there was a bet.

And maybe she was going to have to be a little more aggressive to get Rex to give in.

* * *

Gnats were annoying. Buzzing around making a nuisance of themselves; pestering people with a dedicated consistency: it was textbook obnoxious behavior. And Gabrielle had every intention of doing the same thing to her husband. There was no doubt in her mind that the bet existed and that Carlos was in on it, but the fact that she'd found out about it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. She was slowly going to break him down until he admitted what was going on and then, at that moment when he wanted it most, she was going to deny him. He had no idea what he was getting into by making their sex life a game—Gaby, better than anyone, knew how to use sex to get what she wanted.

She was starting simple. When she'd gotten home from the poker game that afternoon, she'd stripped all the bedclothes and taken every clean sheet in the house and ordered Yao Lin to wash them all. Of course the idiot had protested, claiming that the comforter would never fit in the washing machine, so Gaby had forcibly stuffed it in, getting it soaked enough that it was still sopping when Carlos got home. He was late, again, of course, but she was waiting up for him, lying in bed in her sexiest red lingerie and pretending to sleep.

Gaby heard the bedroom door open, she sensed through her closed eyes when Carlos turn on the light, and she honestly grinned when she heard him say, "What the hell?" A second later he tugged on her foot rather insistently, and she slowly feigned waking up.

"What the hell, Carlos?" she said, purposely echoing his words. "I was asleep!"

Carlos ignored this. "Why is the bed stripped?"

"Yao Lin was doing laundry," Gaby snapped, still trying to sound irritated. "I told her the comforter wouldn't fit in the washer and dryer, but she insisted. Of course it's still soaked."

"Okay, fine," said Carlos through clenched teeth. "But where are the sheets? We have extra sheets, don't we?"

Gaby shrugged. "All in the laundry. What's the big deal? You're always complaining it's hot in this house anyway."

Carlos didn't answer as he stormed toward the bathroom. For the next several minutes, she heard him clamoring around, even going so far as to unceremoniously throw his clothes out of the bathroom door at one point, and then the shower started. As if a cold shower before bed was going to save him. She grinned. It was nearly twenty minutes later when her husband finally emerged in his towel; Gaby was lying on her side again, but her eyes were watching his every move. When Carlos finally clicked off the light and got into bed wearing more clothes than she'd ever seen him wear to sleep in, she gave him about two minutes to settle in before scooting over and draping herself over him: her head on his chest, her leg resting between his, her arm wrapped around his torso.

"This is the best part," she murmured into his t-shirt. He smelled fantastic and she actually took a second to enjoy their closeness. "Now you can't complain that you're too warm to snuggle."

"But I am!" he protested.

"Aw, then let's just take off some of these clothes…"

"No!" Carlos stopped her hand before she lifted his shirt more than an inch. "No, it's fine. You're fine. I'm fine. We're fine."

"Oh good." Gaby nuzzled closer to him, making sure to press her breasts firmly into his side. "Well goodnight."

Carlos only whimpered in response.


	7. Morning Plans

**A/n: **Not mine.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: Revenge**

**Chapter Three: Morning Plans**

Susan woke up to a slap on her ass. Her eyes fluttered open and she groggily lifted her head from her pillow to see Karl standing over her knotting his tie. He grinned infuriatingly and Susan moaned.

"Good morning, sexy." Karl winked. "Looks like you had a big night planned. Sorry I missed it."

Susan peeled a flower petal from her cheek, tossing it to the floor with a disgusted look. After she'd gotten off of the phone last night, she'd blown out all of the candles and eventually fallen asleep with anger still running through her veins. She hadn't bothered to remove the rose petals or change out of her lingerie and as she sat up and glanced down at herself, she realized one of her boobs had popped right out of her bra. Karl followed her gaze and his smile grew.

"Oh, here, Susie, let me get that for you." Karl reached down and grasped her breast, squeezing it a little before tucking it back into her bra. "There you go." He ruffled her hair affectionately.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came home to change. I have to go right back to the office."

"Oh." The possibility for opportunity clicked in Susan's mind and she leaned forward until she was kneeling on the bed in front of Karl. She playfully grasped his tie. "Do you really have to go right back?"

Karl chuckled. "I know where you're going with this and I like it." He settled his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the muscles for a second before bending down to kiss her. "Unfortunately I'm going to have to take a rain check."

"No way," said Susan, trying to stay sexy and not let her temper get the better of her. She wrapped her arms around Karl and rested her hands on his ass. "I don't think it's legal to take a rain check on a rain check."

"Patience is a virtue, Susan." Karl kissed her again and then, to her great disappointment, backed away. "Trust me, I'm learning that the hard way."

Whatever residual anger might have remained from the day before drained from Susan. Mostly she felt discouraged; why was she even doing this anyway? Just to prove something—something she wasn't even sure was worth proving. Even if she got Karl to have sex with her and lose the bet she'd only feel a momentary triumph. After all, she already knew that Karl still wanted to sleep with her. What she was really beginning to wonder was if he still wanted any more than that.

* * *

"Carlos," Gaby called from the bedroom. She adjusted the tiny scrap of fabric covering her breasts and shook her hair out. "Can you help me with this?"

Her husband emerged from the closet, shrugging on his suit jacket, and he paused when he saw her. Gaby refrained from grinning. "I need you to tie the back." She turned around.

Slowly, Carlos approached her and she felt his large fingers begin to fiddle with the strings of her bikini, fumbling to tie it. "Why are you wearing a bathing suit?" he asked. There was a strain in his voice that thrilled Gaby.

"I thought I'd go out and get some sun."

"It's January."

"I didn't say it wouldn't be artificial."

Carlos finished and Gaby turned around. "What do you think?" she asked. "It's new."

"It's…nice."

"Not too small?" Gaby traced the outline of the top where it dipped into her breasts.

Unable to say anything, Carlos merely nodded and Gaby smiled. "Good," she said, and she reached up to peck her husband on the cheek.

* * *

"Mommy, what are you reading?"

Lynette laid her book against her chest and peered at Parker. A number of answers sprung to mind, from the simplest, inappropriate truth that it was smut, to the half-sarcastic, half-genuine thought that it was inspiration, to an explanation she could actually give her three-year-old. "It's a love story."

"Oh." Parker rested his head against her leg. "Will you read it to me?"

Thinking of the two page description she'd just read of the main character's oral perusal of her lover's body, Lynette just smiled and shook her head. "I'll finish my book tonight with Daddy. Why don't you go get one of your books," she said, "and I'll read it to you."

Parker pulled out a book from behind his back and held it up. "I gots one already."

"Oh do you?" Lynette tossed her book onto the coffee table and picked up Parker, tickling him until he laughed and squirmed. "Okay," she said, settling him on her lap. "Let's read."

* * *

Mary Alice sat in Bree's kitchen drinking coffee. They weren't talking. It was so quiet that Mary Alice wished there was a clock ticking—something, anything to show some sign of life. She'd been on edge for what felt like weeks now, but in reality had probably just been the past twenty-four hours.

"_I need to talk," _she'd said to Bree when she'd knocked on the door ten minutes ago. And here they were, Bree, polite as always, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to say. Forcing the words out was proving harder than Mary Alice thought, though.

"Do you need more coffee?" asked Bree.

Mary Alice took a deep breath and decided that Bree wasn't going to judge her. It was time to rip the Band-aid off. Now. She paused and took another steadying breath. Now. "Paul and I haven't had sex in two months."

"Oh." Bree took a sip of coffee and sat up a little straighter. "Well…That's too bad."

Mary Alice smiled sadly. "I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but I need to ask you…Have you and Rex ever had a dry spell like that?"

"Well, of course." Bree busied her hands, a sure sign that she was uncomfortable, and Mary Alice silently thanked her for not aborting the conversation. "That's what happens when you've been married for as many years as we have."

"Says who?"

"Says…everyone." Bree shrugged. "It's just the way things go."

Mary Alice sighed. "So we just have to accept that? I don't know, Bree. Sometimes I think that I'm the problem. Maybe I should just go up to Paul one night and tell him exactly what I want."

"I suppose some people do that."

"I suppose a lot of people do that." Mary Alice smiled, teasing Bree a little in a loving way. "I'm just afraid that if I put myself out there and Paul still rejects me…"

Bree reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it companionably. "Oh, sweetie. He's your husband."

"Yeah." She refrained from adding that she wasn't sure that mattered.


	8. Evening Trysts

**Disclaimer: **Oh this so isn't mine.

**A/n: **That M rating means something in this chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Two: Revenge**

**Chapter Four: Evening Trysts**

"Karl, what would you do if you caught me in bed with another man?"

From where he lay like a lump beside her, Karl simply grunted as a response. Susan frowned. The whole point of this was to jolt Karl from his lackadaisical treatment of their marriage. She didn't care if he was half-asleep from being up all night the evening before; she wanted a response.

"He'd have his arms around me, kissing my breasts, slowly beating a rhythm into me."

"You've been reading too many romance novels," Karl muttered.

"And then he'd kiss me and say, 'Susan, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I love you.' And at the exact same moment, I'd climax. Then you'd walk in…see me in the throes of pleasure…"

"More like I'd hear you shrieking like a banshee." Karl's voice slid up into an unfavorable impression of her. "'Ooh, mystery man…plow me harder. Harder. Fuck me.' That's the sound of you in bed."

"Yeah, well…better than you." Susan dropped her voice. "'I'm the man. I'm the man. Oh fuck yes. I'm the man.'"

Karl laughed. "I am the man. Your mystery guy can't possibly measure up. If he's saying that crap to you while banging you then he's not doing it right."

Susan slapped Karl's arm and scowled.

* * *

When Lynette finally heard Tom come home, she'd already been in bed for forty minutes with only her book for company. There was no way to know for sure if he was working late to avoid her—as Gaby had said Carlos had done—or if he legitimately had to stay, but Lynette knew that either way he wasn't going to get away with just crawling into bed and passing out. She had plans for him; ones straight from a veritable guidebook of romantic trysts.

The door creaked open slowly and Tom crept into to the room, nearly jumping out of his skin when she said, "Hey." The knowledge that he was already on edge made her smile.

"Oh, hey," said Tom, trying and failing to seem smooth. "I didn't think you'd be up."

Lynette shrugged. "Just reading. How was your day?"

"Fine, I guess. Long." Tom raised an eyebrow and loosened his tie to remove it. "Is that wine?"

"Oh." Lynette glanced from her book to the glass of red wine in her hand and shrugged. "Yeah. You want a sip?"

She wasn't surprised when Tom began to mutter weak protests, but they were easy to ignore as she tossed her book onto the nightstand and climbed out of bed. He was watching her with furtive eyes that made her think that he knew exactly what she was doing. But where he probably thought it would end with his dick in her mouth, she had very different plans.

"Here." She handed him the glass and he took a quick sip. "Good, right?"

"Mm-hmm," agreed Tom. He lowered the glass, but instead of taking it from him, Lynette raised her hand to his face, using the pad of her thumb to wipe his lips. To her delight, Tom actually closed his eyes at the sensation, making it much easier to get away with dropping her hand and accidentally-on-purpose bumping the glass so the wine spilled all over his shirt.

"Oh no!" she gasped, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on Tom's face. She took the glass from him and set it on the dresser. "I'm such a klutz!"

"It's fine," said Tom, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"Here, let me." She batted his hands away and slowly began to undress him. The entire time she kept her eyes firmly fixed on his, watching as he transformed from a man on edge to a man who wanted her badly.

"Lynette," he said. His voice was in that low octave that automatically made her wet, but she ignored her own lust. Silently, she peeled his shirt away from his chest and arms, letting it float to the floor.

"That soaked right through," she said in a sultry tone. She swallowed, unhappy that she was not quite in control of her own voice anymore. Not sure that she wasn't getting in over her head, but determined to see this through, she stepped forward and pressed her lips against her husband's chest, barely kissing him before using her tongue to lick away the wine that had soaked through his shirt. She felt Tom stiffen, his hands clenched at his sides, but she ignored this as she tenderly trailed her tongue all the way down to his bellybutton. When she finished, she straightened up, unable to meet Tom's eyes, even though that was what the seductress from her book would have done. If she looked at him, they absolutely would end up having sex. She wouldn't be able to help herself.

"You should get a shower," she said shakily. "Finish cleaning that up." Patting his shoulder quickly, Lynette stepped past him and grabbed his shirt from the floor; pre-treating it was the perfect excuse to get out of this suddenly too-warm room. When she glanced at him on her way out, Tom still hadn't moved a muscle.

* * *

"Gaby, what are you doing?"

From where she sat on the floor, Gaby looked up at her husband and smiled. He'd just gotten home from work and she'd been waiting for him. "Reorganizing our sex toys," she said, gazing around at the collection of toys that surrounded her. "The drawer was getting so cluttered." She picked up a long, thick vibrator and held it close to her face. "Do we still use this one?"

Carlos shook his head. "I…have to get a shower."

Gaby flicked the switch, grinning as the vibrator began to shake. "Hurry back!" she called.

* * *

Mary Alice felt a pair of warm lips kiss her cheek as someone pulled a blanket up to her shoulder. "Paul?" she mumbled sleepily, trying to remember what was going on. She'd been waiting up for her husband; she remembered that. The television was on. And then she'd gotten so sleepy…

"Yeah," she heard her husband say softly. "Go back to sleep, honey."

"I'm not asleep."

Paul's hand tenderly ran over her hair and down her cheek, and Mary Alice slipped back to her dream world.

* * *

Rex was already in bed with the lights out when Bree came into their bedroom that night. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and for several minutes, Bree just stood watching him in the dim light of the moon. Some part of her—a large part of her—just wanted to get into her side of the bed, peck him on the cheek and fall into a restless, but safe slumber. She didn't want to challenge the _status quo_ of their marriage and in the back of her mind, Mary Alice's words about rejection flitted about like an annoyed bird. But what she had told Mary Alice was just as true for her: Rex was her husband. Her husband.

That wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Softly, Bree crept over to the bed, slinking onto the mattress right over to where Rex laid. She settled a hand on his chest, tracing curlicues with the tips of her fingers, and looked down into his face. "Hi," she whispered.

Rex looked up at her and sighed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm saying hello." Boldly, Bree let her hand trail down his chest to his groin, cupping him through his pants. "Hello," she said, squeezing him gently.

"Oh, come on, Bree." Rex batted her hand away and took her by the shoulders, rolling her onto her side of the bed. "Get a grip. I have to get up at six tomorrow."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but you're just puttering around the house all day. I have to work."

With effort, Bree let the put-down of her life pass. There were more important hurdles to jump tonight. "You won't even notice how tired you are," she said silkily.

Rex rolled his eyes. "Goodnight, Bree," he said firmly, and he rolled over so his back was to her.

For one soul-crushing moment, Bree actually lay there ready to just accept that her husband would rather win some stupid bet than be with her. But the thought of that just made her mad. As if money was more important than she was. As if saving face with the guys meant more to him than she did. What right did he have to ever make her feel like this? Furious, Bree leapt out of bed and flicked on a light, crossing her arms over her chest. Rex didn't move, but Bree glared at his back with a look so horrible that she was sure he could feel it boring into his soul. "I know about the bet," she hissed angrily.

A silence as long as a mile stretched between them before Rex rolled over to look at her. There was nothing in his face that indicated guilt or regret or anything else she would have expected from her accusation. Finally, he said, "What bet?"

"Is there more than one?"

Rex sighed. "Now, Bree, don't overreact."

"Don't! Don't you dare tell me not to overreact!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head angrily. "This is a reaction that is perfectly appropriate to the situation! What were you thinking?"

"It was just for fun."

"Oh. Well as long as _you_ were having fun, Rex. Never mind the utter humiliation I felt when all of my friends instantly knew something was going on and I didn't have a clue. It wasn't even hard for you, was it?"

To Bree's degradation, now was the moment that Rex looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She felt her breath catch in her throat. "Oh."

"No. It's not like that," said Rex, actually climbing out of bed and crossing the room to stand in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders, but Bree didn't look up at him. "It's just that you and I are settled. We have some self-control. That's what happens when you've been married this long."

Bree had been using that rationalization for days now. She thought of Mary Alice, who was in the same situation as she, and then of Susan and her insatiable husband. She sighed. "I used to think that, but I'm not so sure that it's par for the course, Rex."

Rex smiled and reached up to play with the ends of her hair. It was a familiar, comfortable gesture. "I like the golf metaphor."

"Rex. Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't act like you're suddenly in the mood. I won't be patronized."

To her chagrin, Rex stepped closer to her, practically invading her personal space. "Come on, Bree. It's just sex."

Just sex. Just some meaningless act of pleasure that could be done with anyone at anytime. She'd never believed that and she certainly hadn't thought Rex did. Glowering, Bree shoved Rex hard, forcing him to stumble away from her. "I love you!" she shouted, no longer caring if it was distasteful. "I've loved you for my entire adult life. You are the only man I've ever been with. And now you're telling me that our love-making is that meaningless?"

"That isn't what I said!"

"You might as well have!"

Rex let out a blustery, angry sound, somewhere between a sigh and a snort. "You are the most frustrating woman I've ever known!"

"Yes, well, you're not the gentleman I thought you were!"

"Yeah? Maybe you're right!" Before Bree knew what was happening, Rex flew toward her, grabbing her roughly and kissing her more passionately than he had in years. Instinctively, she wanted to resist; she tried to pull back, but Rex held onto her tightly. When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily.

"You can't just kiss me and expect this fight to end," Bree snapped. Rex paid her words no heed, simply threading his fingers through her hair and kissing her again. Despite any rationalizations she had against this or any anger she felt, when Rex brushed his tongue against her lips, Bree couldn't help but to sigh into his mouth. He had always been a brilliant kisser.

Rex pulled back to look down at her. His eyes were still flashing and his body was tense; Bree's heart sped up even more and she made a slight effort to squirm away from her husband. Apparently it was the final straw, because Rex shook his head and practically shouted, "Oh for Pete's sake! I love you, you know that?"

Slowly, Bree nodded. Her acquiescence actually calmed Rex, and he lowered his voice back to a normal volume. "Good. Don't ever forget that."

Still feeling bold, Bree said quietly, "Don't ever let me."

The ultimatum made Rex grin, an expression that softened his whole face and made Bree light up from the inside-out. It felt like too long since Rex had smiled at her like that. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and stumbled toward the bed, laying her down on top of it with a look in his eyes that left no doubts that this was what he wanted. It left Bree unsure as to whether she'd won the argument or not, but she guessed it didn't matter.

This was exactly what she wanted too.


	9. New Information

**Disclaimer: **This is what I do for fun, not for profit.

**A/n: **A very special thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. It really helps to know that people are reading and enjoying this.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Three: Double Cross**

**Chapter One: New Information**

The doorbell rang and Carlos barely turned his head as he yelled for Gaby. His attention was currently focused on the television and he didn't really want to be bothered with things like answering the door. Of course, Gaby couldn't help but get back at him—she purposely crossed the path of the television on her way to the door, an act that emitted groans from everyone in the room.

"Oh hi, Rex," said Gaby loudly, rubbing in the point that it was Carlos' guest, not hers. Carlos didn't care. Everyone else had managed to make it before kickoff and he wasn't getting up now just because Rex couldn't be bothered. "You look happy today. Good night's sleep?"

"Something like that," Rex muttered.

"The guys are in the living room. Carlos!" Gaby's voice raised three notches even though he'd heard her clear as a bell before. "I'm going over to Bree's for awhile. I'll be back."

Carlos lifted a hand and waved in her general direction, barely paying attention to Rex as he came into the room and sat down. It was only when Karl said in an odd, sing-song voice, "Someone got lucky," that Carlos actually turned to look at his neighbor.

All eyes now on him, Rex just shrugged. "Okay. I'm out a hundred. But—"

Rex couldn't quite finish his thought amongst the whistles and cheers from the group—an odd mixture of glee that none of them had caved first and admiration that Rex had gotten laid. Personally, Carlos wasn't sure whether to be jealous or grateful that someone other than him had caved first.

"Okay, really, guys, there's more," said Rex, interrupting the hootenanny. "The girls know about the bet."

"What?" said Paul as all the blood seemed to drain from Tom's face. "How do you know that?"

"Bree told me."

Carlos' hands tightened into fists. Of course they knew. Of course _Gaby_ knew. This explained the past few days; the teasing; the innuendos; the damn bed sheets. It all made perfect sense.

"No," said Tom, painfully in denial where the rest of them seemed to have accepted it instantly. Well, except for maybe Paul, who looked somewhat shell-shocked.

"Who blabbed?" Karl asked. If his blasé attitude was any indication, his week hadn't been nearly as rough as Carlos'. Not that anyone's could have been. This sort of thing was like a calling for his wife.

Paul shrugged. "Lynette probably overheard us last weekend."

"No way," said Tom. "She would have come down and killed me right then. Oh my God. She knows. Oh God."

Purely disgusted, Karl pulled a face. "Will you relax? I knew you were whipped, but I never realized she had your balls in a vise."

Tom didn't bother to respond, still too busy muttering to himself. Worse still was Rex, who seemed almost overly-satisfied that he'd ruined everyone's good time. Carlos wondered if he could punch him sans consequences.

"You guys are looking at this all wrong," said Karl lackadaisically. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "So they were playing us. Who cares? We'll just play them back."

"I think we've all had enough of your ideas," grumbled Paul.

"Hey, I'm just saying, the ladies want it as bad as we do. We just do the same thing to them that they've been doing to us."

"Tease them."

"See? Carlos gets it. We get them all fired up and then don't follow through. I don't know about you guys, but Susan sure deserves it."

"I'm in over my head," said Tom. He picked up his beer and downed quite a bit of it, Paul nodding along in agreement. Carlos, despite desperately wanting to get Gaby back for what she'd put him through this week, had the unsinkable feeling that if he initiated anything it would inevitably lead to sex. He wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"Fine. You guys go on letting your wives taunt you and I'll have some fun."

"But you won't win the bet," said Carlos.

"Oh trust me. I'll win."

Carlos glanced at the other guys. Already he could tell that they were reconsidering, and if Carlos was truthful, he was too. It was probably suicide, but what a way to go.

"You guys are idiots," said Rex.

* * *

"You had sex!" said Gaby triumphantly the minute Bree opened the door. Bree's eyes widened and she grabbed Gaby's arm, forcibly pulling her inside.

"Are you crazy? You don't say a thing like that on the front porch! What if someone had heard you?"

Gaby refrained from pointing out that short of Martha Huber lurking in the bushes, no one could have heard her. She was too excited to get into an argument with Bree. "Well?"

To Gaby's delight, Bree got a cheery, almost naughty look on her face. It was the happiest Gaby had ever seen her. "How did you know?"

"Rex is over at my house. He looks like he just won the lottery."

"Really?"

Gaby winked. "The sex lottery. Oh, that sounds kinky."

Bree frowned. "Must you be so crass?"

"Hey, not all of us got laid last night. All I have left is a good imagination."

Apparently unable to find an appropriate response, Bree simply turned and started to walk toward the kitchen. Gaby trailed behind her, wondering if she could pry any details from her closed-mouthed friend. "So," she said with a grin, "how was it?"

"Do you want some coffee?"

"You're not giving me anything, are you?"

Bree smiled, a nonverbal agreement, and started to set up the coffeemaker. "I confronted Rex about the bet. We talked…and then we didn't talk."

"Kept your mouth pretty busy, huh?" Gaby smiled saucily. Half the fun of saying these things was just to see Bree's horrified reaction. "Wait…" she said as her brain caught up with her instinct for innuendo. "You told Rex you knew about the bet?"

"I had to. He was…Well, let's just say he was being less than forthcoming."

"Bree, if you told Rex then that means he knows that we know."

"So?"

"So don't you think he's going to share that information?"

"Oh. I didn't think of that."

Gaby sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. Tonight Carlos would confront her about how she'd been treating him all week and, admittedly, she could at least get him to confess what he had been up to by playing it cool. But that would be the end of it. No breaking him down until he was a quivering pile of man-goo like she'd wanted. They'd have sex and that would be that.

"I guess we should tell everyone else," she said sulkily. Bree rolled her eyes.

"I would think you'd be happy. All this nonsense can end now. We can go back to talking about other things."

Gaby sighed. "But things were just getting interesting."

"Yes. Well…" Bree trailed off, apparently unable to come up with a platitude, and picked up the phone instead. "I'll tell Lynette if you tell Susan."

Gaby nodded. "Fine. But only because I'm not sure which of us is getting the worse end of that deal."

Bree grinned and handed her the phone.


	10. A Woman's Mind

**Disclaimer: **In twenty-four hours this has not magically become mine.

**A/n: **Thanks for reading! Please review!

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Three: Double Cross**

**Chapter Two: A Woman's Mind**

Tom followed Parker into his bedroom and wearily collapsed on his bed, more exhausted than any of his kids were. Bedtime in their house was like a marathon—one where you needed to be able to tag out and bring in an alternate to get you through (if such a thing existed). But Lynette had practically rushed out of the house when he'd gotten home and he'd been left on his own tonight. He wanted to complain, but given how often Lynette did this on her own, he really didn't have a leg to stand on.

"Okay. One story, guys," he ordered. Porter and Preston flopped down on the end of Parker's bed and Tom frowned. "Why don't you get into your beds?"

"We wanna see the pictures too."

"Yeah, Daddy. You hafta turn the book around so we can see every page."

_Oh goody_, thought Tom. He glanced at Parker, who was spending more time than Tom liked at the little bookcase across the room. Either he was up to something, or he was being unusually picky. "Hey, buddy, I thought the rule was to pick out a book before bedtime?"

From the speed that Parker turned around and rushed toward him, Tom had the feeling that Lynette used that question more as a threat most nights of the week. Parker handed him a big pile of books. Tom opened his mouth to point out that he'd said he'd read them one story when he suddenly noticed that topping the stack was a book with two scantily clad people on the cover. "Parker," he said slowly, "what is this?"

"Mommy's book," said Parker, climbing into his bed. "It's boring. There's no pictures."

"Well it's a book for grown-ups," said Tom, setting the rest of the books on his lap and halfheartedly leafing through it. He paused on the page Lynette had bookmarked, just glancing at it, but then he stopped short as his eyes caught the words, "wine dribbled down his naked chest." Without any regard for his sons, Tom began to read the page, aghast at how familiar the fiction seemed to his real life. Lynette had stolen her little seduction scene right from the pages of this book. For a second, Tom was actually a little put-out that she hadn't come up with it on her own, but then it slowly dawned on him that he held her playbook in his hands. She wanted to play dirty and he had all of her moves right in front of him.

"Dad-dy! We want a story!"

"Right," he said, reluctantly shutting the book. "Let's get this show on the road."

He had more important things to read tonight.

* * *

Emergency pile of gifts: Carlos kept them in a shoebox under the sink with the cleaning supplies—the last place Gaby would look. He'd begun collecting them about two months ago after he and Gaby had a particularly bad fight right before Thanksgiving. Going out to buy an "I'm sorry"gift on Black Friday wasn't something he ever wanted to relive again.

But tonight wasn't a night for apologies. It wasn't a night for bribes. It wasn't a night for random romantic surprises—at least not directly. It was a night for messing with his wife's pretty little head. And that, Carlos thought, called for the ruby necklace.

Gift in hand and a gloating smile on his face, Carlos hurried upstairs with his present, unsurprised to find Gaby already lying on the bed in some scant underwear. The woman owned more lingerie than there were nights of the week. "Hey honey," she said, spreading her legs slowly and then re-crossing them; somehow she made this exaggeration look natural. "Did you have a fun day with the guys?"

"I don't want to talk about them," said Carlos in a low voice. "I want to talk about us."

Gaby made a seductive little sound of agreement that made Carlos want to tear off his pants, but he forced himself to hold it together. It really wasn't fair how many things Gabrielle had in her arsenal to combat him. With a steadying breath, Carlos pulled the present out from behind his back, presenting it triumphantly. To his utter delight, Gaby looked thrown off; she sat up with a furtive expression crossing her features, clearly no longer at ease. "What is that?"

"A thank you," said Carlos, trying not to laugh. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "For being the most wonderful—" he kissed the back of her hand, "—understanding—" her shoulder, "—amazing wife in the world," he finished, ending with a kiss on the lips. He handed her the present.

Gaby chuckled nervously. "Okay, I know that I'm amazing, but that's an every day occurrence. So what, specifically, prompted this?"

"Oh you've just been so patient lately. All the late nights at the office. Letting me hang out with the guys." Carlos stood and kissed the top of her head. "Always taking the time to look beyond fantastic, even just to sleep."

Carlos grinned down at her as he watched the pieces click into place. A light of recognition dawned in her eyes and she opened her mouth, clearly ready to chew him out for screwing with her, but then she hesitated. It was exactly what Carlos wanted. She couldn't yell at him without admitting that she'd been messing with him. He'd called her bluff.

"Gee. Thanks," Gaby finally said through gritted teeth. She turned and smiled up at him in a predatory way that made Carlos feel a little less successful. "I won't forget this, Carlos."

Carlos smiled nervously, but didn't back down. After all, how could she possibly tease him more than she already had?

* * *

Karl sat in bed admiring his penmanship. He really had excellent handwriting: masculine; authoritative; slanted just so. Combined with the right words, it sent exactly the message he wanted. He grinned and set the note on Susan's pillow. This was a win-win situation, guaranteed. He was getting back on Susan's good side and remaining a monk at the same time.

The bathroom door opened and Karl quickly snatched something off of the nightstand to perfect the image of innocence. Then he paused when he saw what he'd grabbed: Susan's book of jumbles. He couldn't begin to think why she even owned this; Susan wasn't exactly the puzzle type. Without time to switch it out for something more respectable, Karl simply picked up the pen he'd been writing with and opened to a random page.

"You're still up," said Susan bitterly as she walked into the room. "I'd have thought you'd be pretending to sleep by now. Or sneaking off to the office. Or coming up with some other excuse not to—"

_Holy crap_, thought Karl frantically, _she's going to blow the whole thing_. "Whoa! Whoa!" he shouted loudly, scrambling for some way to successfully abort Susan's words. He couldn't believe she'd been planning to just confront him about the bet like that. Where had her spirit for vengeance gone? "Susie, hang on a second. There's…" Karl glanced at her pillow. "There's something I need you to see."

Susan's eyes followed his and when she spotted the stationary, she raised a curious eyebrow. Karl breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he'd found a way to sidetrack the confrontation. Slowly, Susan walked to the bed and picked up the note. "Karl?" she said. "What is this?"

"It's me," said Karl sappily, really going for over the top. Susan ate that crap up. "Telling you how I feel." In a sudden burst of inspiration, he took the paper from her. "Here. Allow me.

Susan, Susan, lips so fine

Susan, Susan, for you I pine

Let's laugh and love and drink some wine

Susan, Susan, won't you be mine?"

Karl put his hand over his heart at the end and slowly raised his eyes to meet Susan's. She looked torn between skepticism and genuine delight. "You wrote me a poem?"

"I wanted to show you that this old dog still has some romantic tricks up his sleeve," said Karl. "This marriage isn't just sex for me, Susan."

Susan bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears, and she sat down next to him in the bed. "Oh, Karl!" She threw her arms around him and started to plant kisses all over his face and neck.

"It's just hard for me to say how I feel," said Karl, finding it easier and easier to play into Susan's hand. "But I needed you to know."

"And you wrote me a poem!" She pulled back and smiled hugely. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done."

"Yeah. Well…" Karl leaned back against his pillow, surprised when Susan curled up against him and laid her head on his chest.

"Oh! The jumble book!"

"What?"

Susan bounced like an excitable puppy and Karl slowly remembered that he was still holding her stupid book in his hand. "Let's do one together!"

"Great," said Karl with false enthusiasm. "That's exactly what I wanted."

* * *

It was another painfully normal night.

Mary Alice on her side of the bed. Paul on his. Television on. Neither of them touching each other or saying a word. It was torture. And the whole time, Paul felt the words on the tip of his tongue—"You know about the bet. You knew and you didn't even try to do anything. Why? Why?"—words that just wouldn't come out.

He knew what he was supposed to do. What Karl and Carlos and probably even Tom were doing in their own homes right now: teasing their wives. But teasing seemed out of the question when Mary Alice hadn't even begun to make that effort herself. Did she even care that there had been a bet or was she just relieved that he wouldn't try anything?

"The news is miserable," Mary Alice observed calmly. And for some reason, that was the last straw. Paul wasn't going to sit there and listen to her talk about the news and pretend that everything was okay. It was absurd; ludicrous.

Completely depressing.

"I can't do this anymore," he said out of the blue. Mary Alice turned to look at him curiously, but Paul just clicked off the television and looked down at the bedspread. Somehow he couldn't meet her gaze. If this went badly, he wouldn't be able to stand seeing the rejection in her eyes. "No more games. No more tricks. Mary Alice, we need to talk about this."

"I know," she said softly and Paul looked up, surprised. He honestly hadn't thought she'd admit that she knew what had been going on. Still, saying the actual words…Paul took a deep breath.

"Why haven't you wanted to have sex lately? What's going on?"

Mary Alice's eyes widened and she turned her body so she faced him directly. "Me?" she said. "You're the one who made the bet! The one who's been all hands to himself! I've been throwing you signals left and right and you just ignore me!"

Paul wasn't sure which was more shocking—that Mary Alice assumed he was the one not interested in sex or that she actually thought she'd been encouraging him. "Signals?" he scoffed. "Name one."

"Last week I wore that sexy little nightgown to bed and you just rolled over and went to sleep! Or how about all those times I told you I was cold and you just got me an extra blanket?"

"What—No—You—I—" Paul struggled to form a coherent sentence. He felt as though his whole world had been blown wide open and he was suddenly in another reality. "Those aren't signals!" he finally shouted.

"I couldn't have been more clear."

"You ever think about just rolling over and saying, 'Hey Paul, wanna do it?'"

Mary Alice scowled. "You ever think about rolling over and saying that to me?"

Paul gaped at his wife. He'd never heard Mary Alice say anything like that in the nearly twenty years that he'd known her. She liked foreplay and romance and outward signs of affection; the art of seduction. She had never been the type to just jump right into sex.

"Paul?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"If you wanted to have sex and I wanted to have sex, then why haven't we been having sex?"

"I was wondering that myself."

They sat in silence for a moment, Paul pondering how he could have been so utterly clueless, and then Mary Alice reached out and took his hand. "Maybe we need to work on our communication skills." She sighed. "Sometimes I just don't know how to talk to you."

"That's not good," said Paul wearily. "You should be able to talk to me about anything. I'm your husband."

"And I'm your wife."

Paul smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek and then pull her down for a soft kiss. "Mary Alice," he said softly, "I _really_ want to have sex with you."

She grinned and kissed him again, parting his lips with her tongue this time. Paul clung to her desperately, pressing her down into the bed and running his hand down her body. Her responding moan was nearly enough to make him completely lose control.

"Is that a yes?" he mumbled into her mouth.

Mary Alice tugged off his shirt. "Paul," she said firmly. "Just shut up and fuck me."

"Now that's a signal."


	11. Breakdown

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

**A/n: **Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. This story really is motivated by knowing that there are people out there enjoying it.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Three: Double Cross**

**Chapter Three: Breakdown**

Carlos pulled into his driveway, home from work before nine for the first time in over a week, barely noticing the jogger that darted across the sidewalk right before he parked. He was surprised a second later when he heard someone call his name, and when he turned around he realized the runner was actually Karl. "You're home late," he said, approaching Carlos. "Still avoiding the wife?"

"This is early for me," he said truthfully. "Are you running to get away from Susan?"

"Susie's out shopping with Julie. She'll eat too many of those cinnamon pretzels and pass out in a sugar coma." Carlos faltered for something to say and Karl just laughed. "Don't worry. That's normal. So…I have some good news."

"What?"

"Paul broke down last night."

"What? No. How do you know?"

Karl shrugged. "I ran into him earlier. He mentioned that he was out. You know what that means, right?"

"Yeah. It means I'm home free." Carlos grinned and patted Karl on the back. "That money is as good as mine. No offense, man."

"Hey," said Karl, sticking out a suspiciously nonchalant hand for him to shake. "May the best man win."

Carlos nodded and shook Karl's hand, almost feeling sorry for the poor bastard. In the past week, he had withstood the worst Gaby had had to offer; anything else she doled out now would seem like child's play by comparison. And there was no way Karl could last much longer. Tom, of course, wasn't even competition.

"Well," said Karl companionably. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Poker at Rex's."

"Sure. Be prepared to lose big time."

Karl laughed, slapped his shoulder, and jogged away, leaving Carlos to enter his house. The downstairs was dark, and Carlos dropped his briefcase a little nervously. It wasn't that late. Gaby couldn't be asleep yet. He found himself offering an anxious prayer that she'd gone somewhere—even if it was shopping—but he had a bad feeling that she actually lay in wait.

Carlos took the stairs slowly, cautiously making his way to his bedroom so he could put on his pajamas and relax. Then, just as he was about to enter the room, he heard it—a long, low moan coming from inside. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, not sure that he wanted to enter when Gaby so clearly had a new trick up her sleeve, but when his wife moaned again, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, he figured he had no choice. Reluctantly, he entered the room and then almost immediately wished he hadn't.

Gaby lay on the bed naked except for the ruby necklace he'd given her the night before. Her legs were spread wide open so he had the full view the second he walked in. In one hand she held the same vibrator she'd taunted him with the other night, thrusting it in and out of her pussy. The other hand grazed over her own body, squeezing her breasts, tweaking her nipples and then running down to rub her clit. Her head was thrown back against the pillow while she moaned and shrieked, her body writhing under her own ministrations.

"Holy crap," he mumbled under his breath. He felt like an idiot. Gaby could contort her body in ways that Russian gymnasts wished they could, her mouth was a godsend, and she used toys in a way most men only fantasized about. How the hell had he ever underestimated her skill at tormenting him sexually?

Frozen in place, Carlos could only watch as Gaby's hands moved faster and faster and she became louder with every passing second. Almost involuntarily, his hands drifted to his fly, unfastening the button and zipper so he could reach in and pull out his dick. He rubbed his hand up and down the length of himself slowly a few times and then as Gaby's back arched, he increased his speed. His imagination sped ahead of him, imagining that he was plowing his wife—that he was the one causing her to squeal and scream. With her only twenty feet away, it wasn't a hard leap of fantasy to make.

Gaby finished first, collapsing back against the bed and dropping her arms from her body so she lay like a rag doll. Carlos braced a hand against the doorframe, trying to increase the friction of his hand and push himself over the edge, but he wasn't anywhere near close enough. Unsurprisingly, Gaby caught her breath before he climaxed, and she sat up looking at him with gloating eyes.

"You want some help?" she asked.

Carlos shut his eyes, trying to ignore her, but that turned out to be a mistake. Before he could even begin to focus, Gaby's small hand covered his, stopping his movement and then physically pushing his hand away. Her own took its place, gripping his dick like a vice, and he opened his eyes and glared at her.

"Say it," she commanded. "You say it and I'll replace my hand with something much more pleasurable."

Carlos groaned. "No."

Gaby scratched her nails up the underside of his penis. "Come on, baby. Two little words and I'll be on my knees in front of you…my mouth on you…sucking…"

_Oh fuck it_, thought Carlos bitterly. _It's so fucking worth it_. "Fine," he said, glowering down at her. He let out a shuddery, angry sigh. "You win."

Gaby grinned and stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips. "That's right. I win."

* * *

Tom glanced frantically around the room, not sure if he'd lit too many or too few candles. It couldn't be perfect, he rarely created a scenario that was, but he didn't have time to light any more. Lynette was probably close to finished tucking in the boys and he wanted to be ready to go when she came in. This was either the most brilliant or stupidest idea he'd ever had, but one way or another he was going through with it.

The door opened and Tom jumped before forcing himself to relax as Lynette came into the room. He was trying desperately to seem casual, but he wasn't sure he pulled it off: he leaned against the frame of the bathroom door with his arms crossed, watching her. "Tom?" she said. There was something in her voice that spoke of nervousness and laughter and interest. "What is this?"

"Take off your clothes."

Lynette stared at him. He knew that she was trying to figure him out—maybe not even so much what he was up to, but what his motivation was. At this point, Tom wasn't even so sure anymore. He knew that he was supposed to be toying with her, but as he watched the flicker of candlelight across her face, the entire world seemed to fall away. It was just him and her; nothing else mattered.

He didn't know whether Lynette could read his thoughts in his face or if she had something else up her sleeve or if she had just lost her mind, but after a moment she pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her bra followed, then her pants and underwear; Tom's breath caught in his throat and he struggled to find his voice. "Turn around," he finally managed to choke out, not quite as authoritatively as he would have liked, though Lynette followed the command without question. Feeling as though he was about to jump into a volcano, Tom took a deep breath and crossed the room to stand behind her. With trembling fingers, he placed a scarf over Lynette's eyes, knotting it behind her head.

"Trust me?" he asked unnecessarily; they wouldn't have gotten this far if she didn't. But Lynette nodded anyway.

Tom nodded too, mostly to reassure himself, and he put his hands on her waist, leading her to the bed and gently guiding her to lie down on her stomach. Then he took off his own shirt, squirted a generous amount of the massage oil onto his hands, and crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside her. Firm hands; strong fingers—the book had mentioned those two things using about a hundred different synonyms and Tom had gleaned that they were the most important to remember. He put his hands on her shoulders and began the massage. To his surprise, the strain seemed to drain from her body almost instantly, but as she relaxed, he became tenser. He felt like it had been a year since he'd touched her like this, not just two weeks, and he wasn't sure if he could do what he planned without breaking down. Trying to steady himself, he concentrated only on her back at first, taking several minutes to massage the soft skin and tight muscles there before venturing further south. Finally, he continued down her body, squeezing and rubbing her butt, thighs, calves and feet. By then, Lynette had given in completely; the little moans and sighs she kept emitting had made him stiff as a board. It could have been enough—he could have stopped there and found some way to take care of his own needs—but Tom felt some desperate need to see this through to the end.

Slowly he made his way back up her body, turning his attention to her right arm and rubbing it up and down. Then he lifted her arm so it stretched over her head and lowered his mouth to the inside of her elbow. He kissed her there, just a feather-light touch, and then continued to kiss all the way down her arm to her wrist where he pressed his tongue against her pulse point. From there he continued to her fingers, kissing the tip of each one before gently rolling her onto her back and repeating the entire process on the other arm. When he reached her shoulder, he took a deep breath and nuzzled his nose into the skin there, surprised when she ran a hand over the back of his head. For a second, he welcomed her touch, then he lifted his head away from her and turned his attention to her stomach, rubbing her skin there even more gently than he had her back. He continued down to her hips and thighs and then back up, dancing over her ribs and then to her breasts, squeezing and kneading them. Lynette's breathing grew shorter—coming in short gasps and pants—and Tom smiled. Here it was: his moment to get her back. She was on the edge and all he had to do was walk away. But as he looked down at her, watching her tremble in pleasure from nothing but his touch, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He was going to go for the gold.

Barely touching her, he skimmed his hands down her body and finally reached the one area he hadn't touched. He took her labia between his fingers, honestly amazed at how wet she was, and began to pull on and rub and squeeze her lips. Lynette let out a squeal and her hands clenched the bedspread as she involuntarily moved her hips in circles. Tom spent several minutes just playing with her, watching her bite her lip and tremble, and then he moved his hand in for the grand finale. As he pressed down on her, running his thumb in circles, Lynette climaxed, a beautiful sight that Tom wasn't sure he'd fully appreciated in all the years they'd been together. When she finally settled, he sat back, grinning while she just lay there panting. It was several long minutes before she pulled off her blindfold.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" she asked breathlessly.

Tom raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Your book," he said, not even bothering to play dumb anymore. "You didn't get to that part?"

"I guess not." She sat up and crawled toward him, kissing his chest. "That's a great book, isn't it?"

"I'll say," said Tom, trying to ignore the way her hand ran up and down his arm. It was going to take a very long, frigid shower for him to get past this and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

"I know about the bet."

Tom sighed, not stupid enough to deny it. "I know."

Lynette pulled back and looked up at him, waiting until he reluctantly met her eyes. She seemed surprisingly calm, but Tom wasn't sure whether or not it was just the orgasm. "I'm going to give you a choice," she said slowly. "You can stick with this bet and I promise to make this the least sexual marriage ever…"

He swallowed hard. "Or?"

"Or we act out page one fourteen in that book."

"Is that the part with where she does that thing with her tongue—"

"Uh-huh."

"—and then she lets him put his dick in her—"

"Uh-huh."

Tom paused. "But you never wanna—"

"Tom, this is a one time offer. Choose now."

He kissed her until he couldn't breathe and then pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. "It's only money," he whispered.

Lynette grinned. "Good choice."


	12. The Winner

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine. At all.

**A/n: **Well this is it; basically just a little conclusion. I had a ton of fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. Thank you all so much for reading and an even bigger thanks to those of you who reviewed. I'd love to know what you think of the ending too, so please take a second to review.

**As Easy as Pie**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part Three: Double Cross**

**Chapter Four: The Winner**

"Wow," said Susan laughingly. She sat down and accepted the cup of coffee Lynette handed her. "You guys all look really…happy."

"Happy doesn't begin to cover it," said Lynette.

"Satisfied," Gaby offered. "I feel satisfied."

Lynette grinned. "Exhilarated might be closer."

"Geez." Mary Alice half-laughed, half-giggled; an oddly girlish sound. "What did you and Tom do last night?"

"A lot. By the way, Susan, I'm keeping your book."

Susan grinned. "Ah-ha. Well, that explains everything." Lynette raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee, not willing to elaborate for the rest of the group, and Susan giggled.

"How about you, Susan?" asked Bree, reaching out to grasp Susan's hand. "Is everything copasetic?"

"Yeah," said Susan, nodding cheerfully. It was odd to know that she was the only one in the room who hadn't broken her husband even though she'd gotten exactly what she wanted. "Everything is great."

For a second, all five of them grinned rather dopily at one another, lost in their own thoughts. Then Susan somewhat reluctantly said, "Do you guys get the impression that this bet was actually a good idea?" She glanced at each of them: Bree, some naughty, private look in her eyes; Mary Alice, who seemed calm and happy; Gaby, looking like the cat that ate the canary; and Lynette, who was positively satiated. She knew without any of them saying a word that they all agreed.

"Well, we don't have to tell them that," Gaby pointed out.

"Amen," agreed Lynette.

* * *

Karl was the last to show up to Rex's that night, and the second he walked in he knew that something was up. The other guys were sitting around drinking beers and not one of them looked like he wanted to play poker. "Gentleman," said Karl merrily. "What's up?"

"We have some good news for you," said Rex, handing Karl and envelope. He opened it and grinned at the large wad of bills inside. "All right!" he said. He pumped a fist into the air. "I win!"

"Yes, congratulations," said Carlos. "You're the only one here who didn't get laid."

"Oh bitter, bitter, Carlos. Think of me tonight when I'm having sex on a bed of money."

"Mine's a check, actually," said Tom.

Paul tossed Karl a can of beer and then held his up with a nod of his head. "To Karl," he said. "Now the horniest bastard here."

Karl grinned. "I'll drink to that."

* * *

"Well here we are," said Karl, carrying Susan through the door of the hotel room. "The honeymoon suite. Again."

Susan squealed and peppered his face with kisses. It made it hard to carry her to the bed, but Karl didn't complain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Susan so thrilled about anything and this was a romantic gesture he could get behind. A weekend out of town in the same room where they'd spent their honeymoon all those years ago. He was going to have a lot of sex and Susan got to feel special; a win-win situation.

"Oh Karl," sighed Susan, running her hands up and down his back while Karl occupied himself with unbuttoning her top with his teeth. "I'm so happy that I don't even care that you probably paid for this room with the money you won from that stupid bet."

Karl pushed aside her shirt and buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling them. "Ah. Home sweet home."

Susan laughed. "This is perfect," she said. She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him up for a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Susie Q."

Karl went back to his wife's breasts and sighed contentedly. This was the life.

And best of all, he still had enough left over to buy Brandy something skimpy to wear around the office.

-The End-


End file.
